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“That asshole shot me.”

“Once in the shoulder and once in the chest. Thank goodness you had your vest on or you would've been…. Kyle would've—”

Sensing her own pain, I slowly reach up, careful to not snag my IV, and cup a palm around her anguished face.

“Shh, baby. I'm okay.”

“They had to do surgery to repair an artery the bullet nicked. You've been out for almost six hours,” Tank says from his post against the wall behind Randi. As angry as his tone makes him sound, there’s only relief written across his face.

“Birmingham?” I question. Searching the room, I note two of the agents from inside the president’s office hanging back along the wall, their focus on Randi. “Why are they here?”

With a hand to my jaw, she turns my attention from the agents back to her. “Kyle is being detained somewhere.” I catch the annoyed glance she shoots the two newcomers. “We had to wait a few hours for him to sober up and sign the resignation papers, but he refused to meet with the media.”

“Madam President.” That unfamiliar voice from earlier speaks up again.

Her dark hair slides over her shoulder as she shifts to address the person. “Five minutes.”

Turning back, she tucks the rogue locks of hair behind her ear. Only now do I notice the layers of makeup on her normally natural face. The outfit she's wearing is different than the one from earlier too.

“Mess?”

“I was sworn in while you were in surgery,” she whispers. She scans my face as she rakes two fingers through my hair, lulling me into a near hypnotic state. “I wanted to wait, wait for you to be there, but the moment Kyle announced he was stepping down and made it official, they… well, it had to be done.”

“And now?” I ask. Obviously they're trying to pull her away for something important.

She sighs and looks to Tank. “I'm addressing the nation as soon as I get back to the White House. I didn't… I couldn't do it without knowing if you were awake yet. I've held them off as long as I could, Trouble.”

Rubbing the side of my thumb along her cheek, I nod. “I'm going with you.”

I smile at her snort. “You just woke up from surgery. There's no way the doctors will release you, and even if they did, I wouldn’t let you.”

“Fuck,” I grunt. As much as I don't want to admit to this weakness, she's right. There's no way the doctors will let me leave. Hell, I don't know if I could if I tried. My entire body feels heavy, like it's somehow molding deeper into the mattress. Plus, a nap sounds damn amazing. “Go. Go make the announcement.” Inclining my head to the flat-screen mounted to the wall across the room, I say, “I'll watch from here. Go do what you need to do, Madam President.”

The fake smile fades, leaving behind the one I fucking live for.

“I'll be back as soon as I'm done.” The bed creaks, the side rails rattling as she leans forward, pressing a single kiss to my cheek. “There's a lot to talk about.”

The needle imbedded in my left hand tugs when I capture her chin, holding her beautiful face close. Ignoring the pain each move causes, I lean forward and seal my lips over hers.

“Now you can go.”

“You’re bossy when you're shot,” she remarks with zero heat in her words.

“I'm bossy when I'm not,” I retort, fighting the wince as I lower back to the mattress.

“It's one of the things I love.” She smiles. “I'll be back.”

The bed moves, shifting my body as she stands. Gaining Tank's attention, I nod toward Randi. “You go with her. I'll be fine.”

“No shit,” he grunts. “We'll be back.” Before he steps out the door, Tank turns. “If you ever pull that stupid shit again, I'll shoot you myself and then let Sarah kick your wounded ass, you hear me, Benson?”

“I love you too, big guy.” Holding up both arms, I motion for him to come closer. “Do you need a hug?”

“You're impossible.” His words say he's annoyed, but the relief on his face tells me what he won't put into words. “Those two are staying here with you to protect you. Be back when we can.”

Resting back onto the flat pillow, I don't fight the smile that wants to split my face. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, immediately regretting the motion.

Holy hell, being shot sucks.